


"Fight Me"

by Moonsault, orphan_account



Series: The Darkling Plain [5]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Heist, Kayfabe Compliant, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 17:01:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9195269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonsault/pseuds/Moonsault, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When the squad of wrestlers responsible for controlling supernatural influences in the WWE realizes that Kevin Owens has fallen into the clutches of dark magic, Sami Zayn finds himself breaking into Kevin's house to steal back a haunted t-shirt.  Set right after Battleground.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The story of how Kevin's t-shirt in his first photoshoot came to be is 100% true--the woeful staring in the mirror, the advice from Enzo, using Finn's paintbrush and all. It's just too good not to use in a story!

Sami heard the debate going on before he even reached the room.

“Were-bear,” said Corey Graves’ voice. “Obviously a were-bear.”

“He’s not a demon,” said Finn Balor. “But I wouldn’t rule out some other form of possession.”

“I’m thinking more a vampire,” Big Cass said. “I watched some of his indie matches. Guy’s got a thing for blood.”

“Nah, man, he’s a berserker. Can’t be a vampire. He ain’t sparkly,” complained Enzo.

“That’s not-- What-- Have you read _Twilight?_ ” came Becky Lynch’s incredulous voice.

“Hey guys,” Sami said, swinging the door open, and the main roster members of the Spirit Squad went quiet, looking away from him. “Talking about Kevin?” They glanced at him, then away again, and Sami sighed. He’d hoped this would get easier after yesterday’s match at Battleground, but it hadn’t, not really. “Well, he’s not a were-bear, or a berserker, or a vampire.”

“So what is he?” said Enzo.

“He’s nothing,” said Sami. “I mean, he’s nothing supernatural,” he added quickly as everyone looked shocked. “He’s just a guy.”

“No way,” said Becky, frowning. “All that violence? All that--” She broke off before saying “evil,” and Sami realized he’d given her a sharp look. “I can’t quite believe that, Sami.”

Sami shrugged. “I’ve known him a long time, and he’s just...an ordinary wrestler, like me.” He held up a finger, amending. “Now, I’ll admit he _is_ unusually susceptible to dark influences. If there’s evil stuff around it does tend to affect his mood more than a lot of people. But he’s not supernatural himself. It’s more like he’s...weak to dark magic.”

“That explains that incubus who keeps following him around,” Becky muttered.

“Hey, Jimmy is a _reformed_ incubus,” Sami said, feeling himself blushing slightly.

Finn was frowning at him. “Sami, why do you say you’re ordinary? You know you’re not--”

“--Look who’s talking,” Sami said quickly, thumping Finn on the back. “The most extraordinary wrestler in the WWE, finally up on the main roster where he belongs! We’re _so_ lucky to have you on Raw--Becky’s going to have her work cut out for her as the only Spirit Squad member on Smackdown.”

“I mean, I’ve got the Dragon backing me up, but I don’t think I want to call him in unless it’s a _major_ emergency,” Becky said, which led naturally to a discussion of who, if anyone, could be recruited to help handle supernatural crises on the blue brand. Then a report on the conditions in Orlando and whether Hideo would be able to return to active duty soon, whether Nakamura could be counted on to remain a benign influence, and so on. “Elementals,” shrugged Enzo. “They’re fickle bastards, but not usually malicious.”

In other words, business as usual for the crack team of supernatural wranglers, WWE branch. And Sami put thoughts of Kevin Owens aside until Becky pulled him aside later that evening. She had Finn and Enzo with her, and her face was pale.

“Sami,” she said, “I was testing out my new goggles--I’ve calibrated them to scan for and spot supernatural influences--”

“--Wow,” said Sami admiringly, looking at them. “That is so cool. I’m so glad we’ve got an actual technomage on the team.”

“Yes, well,” said Becky, “I happened to be testing them as Kevin walked by, and Sami, he’s definitely got traces of dark magic on him.”

Sami frowned. “Are you sure?”

Becky grimaced, lifting her goggles. “It’s just traces, nothing deeply embedded. Like… a lace overlay, I guess. Focused mainly on his chest and over his heart. And it’s--” She glanced nervously at Finn. “It’s definitely got something in common with Finn’s demon. Really similar energy signatures.”

Finn tilted his head. “I can’t figure out how that would work. I mean, the demon doesn’t just--” He paused as if someone had interrupted him, going still for a second, listening. “That’s right,” he said slowly. “His first photoshoot with NXT.”

Enzo smacked his hand into his palm. “I remember that! Kev was trying to decide what to wear, and he was in a singlet looking at himself in the mirror and--well, he didn’t look too happy with what he was seein’, you know? So I said he should just wear a shirt, and he turned one inside out and--”

“--He grabbed my paintbrush,” Finn finished. “He grabbed the paintbrush I was using to paint my face, and he painted on his shirt.”

“He painted ‘Fight Me,’” Becky said.

“Above his heart,” Sami said. “In demonic paint. While he was feeling vulnerable.”

A long, heavy silence fell.

“This actually makes a lot of sense,” Finn said. His voice was carefully clinical. “The Demon can strengthen emotions, but often at the cost of human connections. If not integrated into the psyche, it makes it… increasingly difficult to reach out.”

“Like when he was gettin’ along with Jericho for a while and then everything fell apart?” Enzo said. 

Finn nodded, looking at Sami.

“This is terrible,” said Sami. “If he can’t-- He’ll never be able to succeed at the highest levels if that part of him is walled off. And his _family._ ” Sami heard panic in his voice. “If it messes up human connections, it’s only a matter of time until his family suffers too, if they’re not already. Guys, we have to do something.”

Everyone looked at him.

“We’re going to have to break into his house and steal that shirt,” Sami said.

* * *

“Underdog to Certified G, come in Certified G.” Sami whispered, his back against a maple tree. “This is Underdog. Do you read me?”

The tiny technomagic bud in his ear crackled. “Sami, I don’t know why you insist on using these ridiculous codenames,” Corey groused. “As if anybody wouldn’t know exactly who we all were.”

“Underdog, this is Straight Fire,” came another voice. “Don’t pay any attention to the Savior of Misbehavior, I think the codenames are cool.”

“Thanks, Straight Fire,” said Sami. Corey sighed audibly.

“I read you loud and clear, Underdog,” came Enzo’s voice. “I’ve almost got the back door open.” There was a pause in which Sami could hear quiet rattling noises. “Uh, you’re sure he’s not home, right?” Enzo said.

“It’s his wife’s family reunion in Ottawa, they won’t be back until tomorrow. Don’t worry.”

“No worries, no worries,” muttered Enzo. “Just breaking and entering, no biggie…” There was a click and a soft crow of triumph. “Underdog, we’re in.”

“All right, team, you know what to do,” said Sami. “Straight Fire, Certified G, you’re with me searching the house. Savior, Prince, you keep watch on the road for anyone raising the alarm. Bonafide, watch the door.”

“If we know what to do, why are you telling us _again?_ ” Sami ignored Corey’s aggrieved voice, pulling his hoodie over his head and breaking cover to bolt into Kevin’s house.

It was quiet and dark inside. Sami started to make his way to the bedroom and almost tripped over a new sofa--they’d redecorated since he’d last been here, of course they had. There were still familiar touches, though: the wedding photo framed on the wall, the Hummel figurine Kevin’s grandmother had given him for Christmas one year, the snow globe of the Eiffel Tower Kevin had bought in Paris during that first European tour so many years ago. A sudden vivid memory: Kevin shaking it gleefully, his face alight with happiness at having found the perfect souvenir.

Sami shook his head as if he could obliterate the image and the emotions it conjured up, and moved on into the bedroom.

He could hear Enzo and Becky rummaging through the rest of the house as he carefully went through the drawers, murmuring apologies to Kevin, Kevin’s family, the house, and everything else he could think of. When he finally opened the right drawer, though, he knew right away--a miasma of _wrongness_ seemed to seep from it, cold and malign. “Geez, Kev, how could you not just _taste_ how bad this was?” Sami muttered under his breath. If even he, a non-magical civilian, could feel it--

He began to make his way through what seemed like an infinite stack of black shirts, struggling not to let the memories they evoked distract him: music and shows and pizza shops all folded together neatly. Where was it, where was it…

 _“Jesus.”_ Sami almost jumped at the panic in Finn’s voice. “That’s Kevin’s car, he’s come back early, guys!” Headlights flashed across the wall behind Sami and he flinched as Finn hissed, “Abort, abort!”

“Becky, Enzo, Cass, get out of here.” Sami frantically started riffling his fingers across the shirts.

“What about you, Sami? We can’t just--”

“Get _out,_ get clear, I swear it’s right here and I’m not leaving without it!”

He heard his partners in crime scrambling for the back door, heard it click shut behind them just as the car engine turned off. Finn was yelling in his ear; Sami scrabbled the earbud out and ground it underfoot, jamming it back in his pocket. He couldn’t risk Kevin figuring out who was working with Sami if he found him. “Where are you, where are you?” he whispered frantically, pawing through the shirts. 

The front door opened.

 _There._ A spark like malign electricity went up his arm and he snatched the shirt out from near the bottom of the stack. He could see the flaking paint, the “Fight Me” in Kevin’s bold scrawl. “I’ve got you now, motherfucker,” Sami hissed triumphantly under his breath, rolling it up so the paint wouldn’t touch him, sliding the drawer shut.

Footsteps outside the room.

In a panic, Sami dropped to the floor and rolled under the bed.

He lay there on his back, staring up at the mattress, the demon-touched shirt cradled in his arms. There was an action figure or something under him, its sharp plastic sword poking between his shoulderblades, and he was pretty sure those were Lego jammed into his lower back. He winced and tried to raise himself up, then froze when he saw Kevin’s stockinged feet appear next to the bed. _Shit._

Kevin was home all alone, Sami realized belatedly. Where was the rest of his family? The house was oddly quiet, and in the silence Sami heard Kevin sigh.

Then the bed sagged as he sat down on it, the mattress closing in on Sami and making his confined surroundings even more claustrophobic. He forced himself to keep breathing slowly, to not panic--it was okay, there was enough air here, he was fine.

Above him, he heard Kevin’s voice, bright and falsely cheerful, raised as in phone conversation: “Hi honey! I was just calling to tell you I got in okay and to check on your and the kids. I hope everything’s going well there, and I’m sorry I got mad like that.” A short pause in which Sami didn’t hear any other voice, just like he hadn’t heard Kevin dial anyone. “But you know it wasn’t my fault, not really. Your cousin was being a total dickhead and you know it, it wasn’t my fault.”

Sami frowned. The shirt in his arms seemed...warmer.

“I didn’t want to leave,” Kevin was going on, “and really I think you were being pretty unreasonable, and I think--” There was the faintest ugly tone in his voice now beneath the pleading. “I think you maybe should be more careful how you talk to me, _honey_ , and--”

His voice broke off and there was silence for a moment, then Kevin muttered “No. No, what the hell, that’s not the right thing to say at all, I can’t say that to her.” There was baffled pain in his voice. “Why can’t I find the right fucking words, why can’t I--”

The shirt’s warmth was sullen, unnatural. Sami scowled and held on to it.

“Okay,” said Kevin. He didn’t sound okay. “Okay, let me--” This time Sami could hear the dialing, could hear the tinny ringing of another phone and the stilted tone of someone’s voice mail. “Oh come on,” breathed Kevin as the message wound to the beep, but then lifted his voice back into false good spirits: “Hey! Chris! Just thought I’d leave a message to say hi, it’s the guy you called a donkey. I mean, I assume you meant it as a compliment, right? Goat, donkey--ah, never mind. You’ve been kind of a jerk lately, but I was wondering if--shit,” he said as the phone beeped again, cutting him off. “Come on, call me back sometime, you douchebag,” he muttered. “I thought we were well.”

A long silence. Was he going to fall asleep? Sami heard him clear his throat. “Start with unimportant, right,” said Kevin. “Minor stuff.”

Another pause. No dial tone. Then Kevin’s voice again, more muted, less cheerful:

“Hey, Sami, just calling to say hi. Great match last week, huh? I mean, it sucked to lose, but I heard people say it was a really great match anyway. I was finding new bruises for days! Ha,” said Kevin.

A silence.

“Ha ha,” Kevin added.

The shirt was unpleasantly warm in Sami’s arms now. Was that a whiff of sulphur?

“I used to be better at this,” Kevin said softly. “I used to not be mad all the time, I used to be able to… have friends, you know?” A quiet chuckle. “I guess you do know. Or you did. I used to be able to forgive you even when you did dumb shit. I used to be… able to be... forgiven. Is that grammar right? It sounds weird. Ah, you’re not even here, what am I going on about.”

Beneath him, lying on a variety of spiky children’s toys and stale goldfish crackers, Sami squeezed his eyes shut.

“Okay,” whispered Kevin. “For real this time. Gotta do this.” The sound of dialing, a phone picking up, a woman’s voice in the distance. “Hi honey,” said Kevin. “Is everything okay there?” His wife said something. “I didn’t mean to insult him, you know that,” said Kevin. “You gotta admit he said some rude shit.” 

Another pause. The shirt in Sami’s arms felt like it was almost smoldering now, reeking of spiritual brimstone. 

“Well, what was I supposed to do, just let him insult my whole job?” The self-righteous whine was creeping back into Kevin’s voice, and Sami resisted the temptation to lurch out from under the bed and interrupt the conversation before it could slide too far out of control. He was pretty sure suddenly appearing beside Kevin’s bed yelling about a haunted t-shirt would not lead to good results. So he waited, listening to Kevin flail and bluster and finally hang up--he still said “I love you” before hanging up, Sami noticed with relief. He wasn’t _that_ far gone. Sami wasn’t too late.

There was a silence. Then Kevin choked out “Damn it. _Damn it._ ” The phone suddenly clattered to the floor next to the bed.

Sami listened until the unbearable snuffling noises that followed died down into sobbing breaths and then the slow, even sounds of sleep. Then he slipped cautiously out from underneath the bed, the shirt still a seething heat in his shaking grip, and crept to the door.

In the doorway he looked back for just a moment. Kevin was curled up on one side of the bed, his arm cast out across the blank space as if reaching out in vain.

 _I’ll save you, Kev,_ Sami thought fervently, and made his way out of the house to where the rest of his crew were waiting in various degrees of panic and alarm for him.

* * *

“So...what do we do with it now?” Sami asked, glaring at the shirt lying on the hotel bed as if he could incinerate it with the power of his will alone. If it were possible for a shirt to glare back at someone, this shirt was doing it.

“I got in touch with Hideo before and he said we needed five sacred items,” said Corey. “Everyone brought one.”

“Wait,” said Sami, “I didn’t--”

Corey raised a hand, cutting him off. “Just hold your horses. Now, let me draw a warding circle--” He traced a circle on the floor, and Sami narrowed his eyes as the tattoos on his fingers seemed to glow faintly, leaving lines of light on the ratty carpet in their wake. “Finn, would you…?”

Finn lifted the shirt with the kind of caution one would use handling radioactive waste and put it down in the middle of the circle, where it lay and seethed.

“All right,” said Corey. “First on the northern point, representing water.”

Cass pulled a tiny plastic bottle out of his pocket. “Water from the showers of the Performance Center,” he said. 

Corey shrugged. “It’s a kind of sacred,” he said as Cass unscrewed the lid and put it at the top of the circle. “To the east, we have earth.”

Finn held up a plastic baggie. “Dust from Korakuen Hall,” he said, sprinkling a pinch of it on one side of the circle. “The holiest place I know.”

“To the south, life. Becky?”

Becky put three dried leaves down at the southern side. “They’re from Mitch the ficus,” she said softly. “Dean let me have them. Said if it made Owens less of a rampaging douchebag it was worth it.”

“Enzo, you’ve got the west, the quadrant of air.”

“Air and wind and words, the most hallowed things we got,” said Enzo. He held up a single silver-gray thread. “This right here? This is a thread from the suit Dusty wore when he cut his Hard Times promo.”

“Holy shit, Amore,” said Corey. “That’s heavy-duty power.”

“He gave it to me,” said Enzo, putting it down in its spot. “It’s never let me down.”

There was a faint crackling in the air, a bright power on the edge of perception waiting to be unleashed. “Sami,” said Corey. “The center is for fire and light to burn away darkness.”

Sami stared at him in dismay. “I didn’t bring anything, you didn’t tell me, what do I do?” Everyone looked at him as though he were missing something obvious. “What do I do, damn it?”

Becky produced a pair of silver scissors and held them out to him. He looked at them, baffled. “A lock of your hair, Sami,” she said patiently.

“Oh?” Sami took the scissors and cut a bit of his hair, feeling his hands shaking slightly. “Okay, but I don’t think--”

“--Exactly. Don’t think. Just put it on the shirt, Zayn,” said Corey.

Sami shrugged. Holding his hand over the shirt, he let the hair sift through his fingers onto it.

As the coppery threads touched the paint, the words seemed to bust into flame, the scrawled “Fight Me” lighting up as if traced in gold before vanishing. The flames spread to the rest of the shirt in a flash, consuming it and leaving nothing behind but a wisp of smoke. Sami expected it would smell of burnt hair and cloth, but instead the room almost smelled like...incense? Weird.

“Okay,” said Corey. He sounded tired. “That’s it. Kevin is free of the influence of the demon at last.”

Becky, Cass and Enzo quietly high-fived each other. Finn smiled at Sami.

Sami just hoped Kevin wouldn’t miss his old Guns n’ Roses shirt.

* * *

The next Raw, Enzo and Cass challenged Chris Jericho to a fight, leaving him searching for a partner. Finn and Sami were watching as Chris explained that he’d finally found a partner, he’d found someone who would have his back!

And Kevin’s music hit.

Sami watched as Kevin came slowly to the ring. He looked tired, worn out. Like he hadn’t been sleeping very well. But by the end of the segment he was nodding along with Chris, getting into it. Enzo and Cass, for their part, looked like they’d been slapped in the face; they gaped at Kevin as if they couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

“What the hell?” Finn muttered next to Sami. “But that’s not-- He’s not supposed to--” He fell silent again, frowning, and his expression was matched by Cass and Enzo when they came backstage again.

“Jeez, I don’t get it,” Enzo said. “We must have fucked it up?”

“Fucked what up?” said Sami. All three of them stared at him.

“The spell!” said Cass. “It was supposed to free Kevin, and he was supposed to… he was supposed to…”

Sami looked at their distraught faces. And then he started to laugh.

“Wait,” he said. “Wait, you thought that if we broke that spell he’d be my friend again just like _that?”_ He snapped his fingers. “You thought it was just some kind of bad magic that we weren’t buddies?”

The expressions on all their faces were eloquent.

“Ah,” Sami sighed as his laughter trailed off. “I wish it were that simple between Kevin and I, I really do. And I appreciate you trying. But there’s a lot more going on there than a spell.”

“So it was all for nothing?” Cass sounded outraged.

“Don’t be silly,” Sami said. “Of course it wasn’t for nothing. He’ll be a better dad and a better husband now. He’ll be happier. And I think without that spell haunting him he’ll maybe finally have what it takes to win the big one someday.” He shrugged. “It’s a good sign that he’s willing to reach out to Jericho, to try and be a friend.”

“I’m not sure Jericho’s the best choice for a friend,” Enzo said doubtfully.

“Probably not,” said Sami. He laughed a little, though he suspected it sounded sad. “But at least this way Kevin’s finally got a friend--maybe a bad friend, but I think that’s still better than to not be able to have any friends at all.”

Enzo and Cass looked unconvinced, but headed off to the showers after clapping Sami on the back in a sort of silent apology.

“Well,” said Finn as they walked off. “I get what you’re saying, Sami, but you’re wrong about one thing.” Sami looked at him, waiting, and Finn smiled. “I think Kevin already had a really good friend,” he said.

Sami felt himself turning a bit red. “Geez,” he said, ducking his head.

“Don’t worry,” Finn said. “I won’t rat you out.”


End file.
